


The Little Magician

by Avery72



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Growing Up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery72/pseuds/Avery72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up is difficult for every child, even those growing up in loving and wealthy homes. Merlin was a reclusive child with no friends except a stuffed animal bird. This is a story about Merlin's struggle to find his place in the world before Kingsman found him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Merlin & Viviene](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/108011) by Avery72. 



> I ship Merlin.  
> I can get behind Merlahad, Merlihartwin, Merlwin, Roxlin, and everything else.  
> But ultimately, I ship Merlin because he is a bad ass mother fucker.
> 
> Based off a chapter in another Merlin-centric fic I wrote on fanfiction.net.
> 
> HEADCANON: No one knows Merlin's first name because they don't stop to think that Merlin is his actual first name.

**1964**

Agonized screams pierced the low hum of the bustle in the kitchen. Mrs. Winchester, perched on a stool, panted heavily and pushed with all her might. She had been in labor for several hours and the child was very stubborn about leaving the womb. It was as if he was aware of all the pain and misery that would await him in the outside world; and logically, one would not be eager to exchange the safety of the womb for that pain and misery.

When Mr. Winchester made a comment about how they should have gone to a hospital instead of having the birth at home, Mrs. Winchester shot him a withering look.

“I will not have our son born under fluorescent lights, in the cold confines of a hospital room. When he is born, the first thing he will see if the beauty of his home. He will see the blue sky and the green, rolling hills.”

Mr. Winchester opened his mouth to make a reply, but he was cut off by the doctor.

“He’s almost out,” the doctor said. “One more big push, ma’am.”

Mrs. Winchester nodded and took a few deep breaths as she prepared herself. She let out a loud groan as she pushed with all that was left of her strength. She squeezed her husband’s hand so hard Mr. Winchester thought she broke a couple of his fingers.

Mrs. Winchester pushed and pushed and pushed.

The doctor caught the top of the baby and pulled him the rest of the way out. Everything paused for a second as the high-pitched wails echoed throughout the kitchen. A midwife handed a pair of scissors to Mr. Winchester and instructed him to cut the umbilical cord.

Once the life line between mother and child was severed, the midwife scooped the baby into her arms from the doctor and began to clean him. Bundling the infant in a blue tartan cloth, she handed the child to his mother.

Mrs. Winchester smiled fondly at the infant. He looked mostly like his father, except he had his mother’s bright green eyes and sharp jawline. She pressed her lips to his forehead and cooed at him.

"What do you want to name him?" Mr. Winchester asked his wife, looking at his son over his wife’s shoulder.

"Merlin," she wheezed out, now overcome with exhaustion. "Let's name him Merlin."

Mr. Winchester raised an eyebrow at his wife. Sometimes he had no idea where she got her ideas from, but her off-beat creativity was part of the reason he loved her so dearly. He tucked some of her sweat-matted, golden hair behind an ear.

“If that’s what you want, darling.”

“Merlin,” she said softly to her son. “My little magician.”

\---

**1969**

Because she had named her son Merlin, Mrs. Winchester though it would be comical to also give him a stuffed animal merlin. It was a blue-grey along its back and its underside was tan with streaks of black. Mrs. Winchester had sewn a midnight blue wizard cap decorated with stars to the stop of the bird’s head.

No matter where Merlin went, his little merlin went with him. The Winchesters had an isolated existence in the Scottish Highlands, so the stuffed bird was automatically Merlin’s best friend.

“How’s my little magician doing today?” Mrs. Winchester asked as took a seat on the floor next to her son. She leaned over and kissed him on his forehead. She kissed the merlin on the head when Merlin held it up to her.

Merlin regarded her silently, a smile on his lips. He had also inherited his mother’s kind smile.

He handed her the book he was reading: _An Introduction to Algebra_. He showed her the problems he had solved in his notebook. And the cartoon pictures of his little merlin he drew in the margins of the pages.

“Being able to solve complex mathematics,” Mrs. Winchester said, wrapping an arm around her son, “is magic in and of itself. Don’t let anyone take the magic away from you. Promise?”

Merlin nodded and wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck in a hug. He then offered his little merlin to his mother and she hugged the stuffed bird.

“Do you want to read _King Arthur_?” Mrs. Winchester asked.

Merlin’s green eyes lit up. He was totally and utterly fascinated by King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. He admired the character Merlin because they shared the same name and, according to his mother, they both possessed special magical powers.

Mrs. Winchester stood up and offered her hand to her son. Merlin placed his right hand in hers and held his stuffed bird with his left hand. They walked to the library and cuddled together on one of the plush armchairs.

“With the help of Merlin’s magic…” Mrs. Winchester read.

\---

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Mrs. Winchester calmly asked. “He’s almost five and still hasn’t spoken a single word. He will play with other children, but he prefers to spend his time alone looking at his father’s mathematics books.”

Merlin sat on the edge of the examination table, looking back and forth between his mother and the doctor. He idly swung his legs and played with his little merlin, wondering how much longer the appointment would take. Merlin was anxious to get home and back to building a model car his merlin could drive around in. He based the design off a picture he had seen in one of his father’s books.

“We’ve done all the test we possibly can do,” the doctor replied. “There’s nothing wrong with your lad. If anything, Merlin is a genius because he has significantly higher neural activity than any child his age. Even more than most teens.”

“Then why hasn’t he spoken to us?” Mrs. Winchester reached out and took her son’s hands in hers. Merlin gave her hands a little squeeze, the way his father would whenever she was distressed.

The doctor shrugged. “Only Merlin can tell us that.” He offered a slight smile at Mrs. Winchester, but quickly killed it when her frown deepened. Merlin thought the irony in the doctor’s statement was funny and chuckled.

Hearing Merlin’s chuckle, the doctor added, “My best guess is that he just might be shy.”

\---

**1970**

“Computer,” Merlin said. He offered his father an electronics catalog; he had circled in pencil the model that he wanted. He had his stuffed bird tucked under the crook of his other arm.

“What was that, darling?” Mr. Winchester asked without looking up from his newspaper.

“Computer,” Merlin repeated, a little louder. “I would like a computer, please, Father.”

Mr. Winchester tossed his newspaper aside and moved from his armchair to kneel next to his son. He had assumed that the soft, high-pitched voice was his wife and not his son. His eyes were wide in total and utter shock; this was the first time Merlin had spoken to anyone, let alone in full sentences. Although he was not as expressive about his concern as his wife, Mr. Winchester was just as concerned about their son’s abnormal lack of speech.

Mr. Winchester gently took the electronics catalog from Merlin and saw the model that was circled.

“Computers are very expensive,” Mr. Winchester said. “Are you sure you want this one?”

Merlin nodded vigorously.

A wide grin came across Mr. Winchester’s features. “By all means,” he said, “Let’s get you one straight away.”

He knew that he wouldn’t have to consult his wife about the matter. He knew that if computers, electronics, and gadgetry were the things that would get Merlin to open up and interact with the world, however limited that interaction may be, then they were going to nurture Merlin’s interests.

Mr. Winchester stood up and offered his free hand to his son. He didn’t bother to return the electronics catalog because he knew Merlin wouldn’t let go of his stuffed bird for anything in the world. Merlin placed his hand in his father’s.

“Why do you want a computer?” Mr. Winchester asked.

Merlin had the biggest grin on his face as they made their way to the car, but didn’t respond to his father’s question. It wasn’t until after they had driven to town and placed their order for the computer that Merlin spoke again to his father. “I would like that particular computer model because…”

Mr. Winchester was on the verge of weeping with happiness, listening to his son clearly articulate reasons why he wanted that particular computer model.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Merlin gets bullied in this chapter.

**1973**

Merlin wanted to go home. He hated it at his boarding school, the finest all-boys secondary school in Scotland money could buy. The first few weeks hadn’t been too bad, but once the bullying started Merlin cried himself to sleep every night. He knew he was the obvious victim: 5 years younger than his peers, physically smaller, and nerdy.

“Beep boop. Beep beep boop,” one boy said while making sporadic chopping motions with his arms. “My name is Merlin. I am a robot,” he said in a mechanical voice.

Merlin flinched, but didn’t look up from his book. When the other children at the boarding school realized that Merlin was incredibly gifted at mathematics, they started calling him “Robot” and making squeaking noises. Merlin ignored them for the most part, glad that they weren’t picking on him for carrying a stuffed animal bird with him everywhere he went.

“Once you take away the satisfaction of violence, their actions become empty,” his father had said to him over the phone. “Don’t let their words hurt you. Your mother and I love you very much; and that’s all that matters.”

“They are just jealous,” his mother had added. “They are upset they do not have the same magical powers like you do, my little magician.”

“You know what?” a second boy asked. “If he’s a robot, he’s got no feelings.” He scooped a pebble from the ground and lobbed it at Merlin while laughing. “Did you feel that?”

“You didn’t even hit him!” a third boy whined. Merlin had held up his mathematics book, without breaking his concentration, and the pebble bounced weakly off the book’s hard cover. The third boy picked up a pebble and threw it at Merlin, which Merlin also blocked with his book.

The five boys in the bully gang decided to make a game of throwing pebbles at Merlin, awarding points for each stone that hit Merlin. They started choosing larger stones and throwing them harder.

“Merlin is a robot.”

“Beep boop. Beep boop.”

“Merlin got no feelings.”

“Robot. Pisspot. Have-not.”

“Merlin ain’t human. He made of metal parts.”

Merlin just sat there and took the taunts and the stoning; he refused to lose composure and cry in public. Thankfully, before the violence escalated to manslaughter, a teacher walked over to the hooting gang of bullies and the boys scattered like dust in the wind. However, the teacher simply frowned at the battered Merlin and walked away with disappointment in his eyes.

\---

After several months of calling Merlin a pathetic robot and throwing stones, the bullies tired of it. This was in part because Merlin started carrying around an umbrella with ultra-durable canvas sewn onto it; this umbrella was large enough for Merlin to safely hide behind it.

The bullies decided to target Merlin’s little merlin.

“NO!” Merlin screamed in terror as two boys wrestled him to the ground and a third boy pulled the stuffed animal from Merlin’s arms. “GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE ME MY MERLIN BACK!” Merlin struggled as hard he could, landing a couple of punches and kicks. But he was just too small compared to the other boys.

“The math gods demand a sacrifice!” the leader of the gang said overdramatically and the other boys made primal chanting noises. “And the gods demand this stupid bird.”

“NOT MERLIN!”

The leader brandished a pocket knife and began to haphazardly severe the little merlin’s head from its body. Merlin sobbed hysterically as he was forced to watch, completely helpless to do anything. Every fiber in his body roared in agony.

Merlin’s one and only friend was being terrorized simply for the fact that he was Merlin’s one and only friend.

The lead held the dismembered head high in the air, as if he was a Greek warrior having defeated his arch nemesis. He tossed the body of the stuffed animal bird to another member of the gang.

“Now, let’s go hide it.”

\---

“What happened?” Mrs. Winchester cried in despair when Merlin presented her with the two body parts. He was home on a week’s holiday in the middle of the spring term.

Merlin lied and said, “It was an accident. I tripped and made a little rip; the stitching came out entirely over time.” He knew that if he told her the truth, his mother would personally discipline each boy in the gang and each boy’s parents on his behalf. Merlin didn’t want to distress his mother like that.

Mrs. Winchester delicately carried the parts to her sewing room. She re-stuffed and repaired the head. She also made a tie from the same fabric as the wizard hat for the little Merlin, to cover up the repairs around the neck.

Merlin’s green eyes lit up when Mrs. Winchester presented the healed and bathed stuffed animal bird back to him. Merlin grabbed the little merlin and gave it a big hug. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered to it. “It’s not going to happen again.”

As he said those words, something steeled in his heart. The bullies had crossed a line and Merlin was going to take matters into his own hands. Merlin wasn’t one to seek violence, but he would be prepared if it came looking for him again.

\---

Merlin stood expressionlessly in the back corner of the office, gently pressing an ice pack to his left eye. He had his stuffed animal bird, as usual, tucked under his other arm. There was some blood on the front of his jumper from when he was punched in the nose, but besides that, Merlin’s clothes were immaculate.

Even though he was being expelled from school, Merlin was privately very proud of his device and of the way he held his composure during the fight. He was proud of himself for standing his ground and making a statement, for remaining calm and calculating each move precisely.

Mr. and Mrs. Winchester were seated in the two chairs opposite the headmaster of the boarding school. On the headmaster’s desk was an ASP tactical baton with wires wrapped around it. The wires were connected to a battery-powered switch box at the base.

Mr. Winchester cleared his throat. “You are expelling our son from school because…”

The headmaster sighed, having already told the story six times. Five times for each set of parents for the other boys involved in the incident and once for the Winchesters. “Your son, Merlin,” the headmaster stated irritably, “attacked five other boys at this school with this…” he waved his hands at the device on his desk. “What did you call this, Merlin?”

“A stun-stick neuroscrambler,” Merlin replied flatly. “It’s a rod that is electrically wired to deliver 50 volts when in contact with another body.”

“Yes,” continued the headmaster. “Your son sent two boys to hospital with his... contraption. We do not tolerate violence at this school. The other boys only suffered injuries ranging from sprained wrists to broken legs, thankfully.”

Mrs. Winchester howled with laughter. “What is this nonsense? You believe it is okay for other boys to bully Merlin because he prefers books over sports and because he prefers silence over idle chatter. And when Merlin finally takes matters into his own hands, you expel him?”

“But this is not the first incident,” the headmaster replied. “Merlin gets into fights regularly at school.”

“He doesn’t start those fights,” Mr. Winchester said.

“Because you do nothing to remedy his situation!” Mrs. Winchester shouted. “Merlin, please tell the headmaster why you did what you did.”

“The bullying reached a point I could no longer tolerate,” Merlin replied. “I understand that it is normal to be called names and have pebbles thrown at you and have your things be stolen. But once they stated shoving me around, I knew I had to stop the bulling. In order to do that, I had to prove that I was so far beyond their fighting capabilities that bullying me would no longer be a feasible option. Therefore, I developed a weapon that would allow me to easily incapacitate my opponents. The voltage range on the stun-stick neuroscrambler is far below what will harm the human body; what I failed to calculate was my own physical strength.”

“Listen to your son,” the headmaster said. “He feels no remorse. He’s a robot.”

“How dare you,” Mrs. Winchester hissed. Her hands were shaking with how furious she was. “How. Dare. You. Call. Our. Son. A. Robot.” She rose to her feet and her husband followed suit. They exited the office. Merlin followed them out, still expressionless.

“You can’t go around zapping your peers,” Mr. Winchester said, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder once the family reached the car. “But I am rather chuffed with what you managed to do.” He offered his son a warm smile. “We will hire you a private tutor. And when it’s time, which we don’t expect will be long, we send you to university.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I knew where I was going with this story, but I don't anymore.  
> Here's a little filler chapter until I get myself sorted out.  
> Sorry for disappointing you.

**1980**

“I demand a re-grade,” Richardson demanded, leaning aggressively over Merlin’s desk. “There’s no possible way I got a C on this assignment.”

Merlin lifted his glasses with one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried not to sigh; he was starting to lose patient with Richardson’s sense of entitlement. “But you did,” Merlin replied flatly without making eye contact with Richardson. He simply returned to grading paperwork from his other introductory physics class.

At the tender age of 16, Merlin had finally started to find himself and have a new sense of confidence. He was hired as faculty at the engineering college, where he was embraced for his intelligence and quirkiness. He made a few friends, and most of the students were so afraid of him and his demanding coursework that it didn’t cross their minds to terrorize the youngster. Merlin also joined the university’s boxing club, easily sliding into a Top 10 ranked position and earning him respect.

And much to his parents’ surprise, and amusement, Merlin had developed a significant amount of cheekiness. They had never been more proud of their son.

However, Merlin still carried his little merlin around everywhere with him in his backpack.

“I don’t get C’s. You get me?” Richardson said, slapping his assignment on Merlin’s desk.

Merlin’s expression didn’t change and he didn’t stop working. “If you worked as hard on the assignment as you do picking up naïve, young women… Then you would have done better.”

Richardson’s mouth dropped open. His hands balled into fists and he leaned even further over Merlin’s desk, his angry face mere centimeters from Merlin’s. “Let me explain to your stupid brain how this works. My father will kick your arse out of this institution faster than you can solve you damn calculus problems.”

Merlin let out a deep breath and gently placed his pen on the desk. He rose out of his seat just enough to lean into Richardson’s personal space. “No, no,” Merlin whispered into Richardson’s ear. Richardson could hear the vicious smile. “You can’t touch me. Not because I’m an overentitled idiot with parents who coddle me. You can’t touch me because I am the best, god-damn fucking engineer the United Kingdom has ever seen in three decades.”

Richardson pulled away, suddenly aware of just how dangerous Merlin was. He struggled to find a retort. “At least my voice doesn’t crack when lecturing.”

Merlin shrugged, sat back down, and prepared to return to his work. “Puberty. What can you do?” He offered a grin and Richardson bolted from the office.


	4. Chapter 4

**1982**

Merlin would be the last to ever admit it, but he desperately wished someone other than his mother would tell him he was handsome. He would also never admit that he was lonely, now teaching at Cambridge and away from the familiarity of his fellow Scotsmen. So, when the cute waitress named Margaret at the bakery Merlin frequented every morning asked, "The usual for the handsome lad?" when taking his order, Merlin thought he was in love.

It took a few months, but Merlin finally worked up the courage to ask Margaret to dinner. She readily accepted Merlin's offer with a wide smile. They went to a cozy pub a little ways away from campus.

Towards the end of the date, Margaret said, "I'm taking an introductory mathematics course. I've managed fairly well thus far, but I know it's only going to get more difficult. Do you think you'd be able to provide some private tutoring?"

Although Merlin had initially thought, "I wouldn't want to waste my time," he said, "Cambridge has excellent tutoring facilities. I think they might be better equipped with assisting you than I can."

Margaret placed a slender, manicured finger on Merlin's shoulder. She dragged her finger down to a spot of her heart. "But I want you," she whispered while leaning over the table, her voice now sultry.

Merlin swallowed a lump in his throat as he got an eyeful of her breasts. "Remember, first and foremost, you are a gentleman," his father's voice said in his head. Merlin raised his eyes to meet Margaret's; he could tell by her predatory expression that she had noticed he had been staring at her breasts and didn't mind.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably in his seat and wished had his stuffed merlin with him. "Um... maybe, I suppose... Recent studies in psychology suggest that engaging in low level tasks can lead to bursts of creativity. You might inadvertently help me solve the time-frequency trade-off."

"Huh?"

“The shape of the filter used during signal acquisition will affect the presence of artifacts. The challenge with designing filters is that a filter with strong time resolution with have poor frequency resolution, and vice versa. The trend right now is to use sharp filters with high frequency resolution, but there’s such significant time delay. Therefore you have to set a delay so that you don’t need to do frequency-dependent phase correction; and it’s a lot harder than it sounds because of the current state of analog technology.”

"You're kidding, right?" Margaret dropped back down into her seat and crossed her arms over her chest.

Merlin was confused by the sudden change in her demeanor. He pushed his glasses up his nose with two fingers on the bridge. "I'm kidding about what?"

Margaret huffed and left Merlin sitting by himself in the booth.

As soon as Margaret evacuated the booth, a young man slid into her spot. "If that's what you call flirting, you need remedial help. Stat."

"I'm sorry?" Merlin refused to lift his eyes from the table. He was horrified and embarrassed that someone had witnessed his failure.

"She was offering you sex under the guise of private tutoring; it's a textbook trick." The young man chuckled and slapped Merlin on the shoulder, then slid out of the booth. "Pint's on me. What will you have?"

Merlin didn't respond, still staring down at the table.

"Guinness is it then," the young man said.

Merlin continued to stare at the table until the young man placed a pint in front of him. "No need to act so glum about it. What's your name?" he asked.

Merlin sighed and slowly lifted his eyes from the table to meet the cheerful, smiling eyes of the young man who barged into his life. "Merlin Winchester."

"Bertram Gregory." Bertram held out his hand to Merlin and they shook. Bertram's delicate, slender hand clasping with Merlin's strong, calloused hand.

And in that moment, Merlin's perspective on everything changed.

Merlin used to think that he like blonde birds with jubilant, round faces and kind smiles, who had just enough tit for a handful. But upon meeting Bertram Gregory, Merlin realized that he liked slighter older men with mousey-colored hair and eyes, with strong jaws and broad shoulders. He liked men who carried themselves like true gentlemen, but had a hint of being cavalier. And even though Merlin didn't smoke, he loved the way the bitter smell of cigarettes clung to Bertram.

"What do you study, Merlin?"

"I'm a professor of mechanical and electrical engineering."

Bertram let out a low whistle. "Fuck me sideways."

Merlin bit his lower lip, acutely aware of how much he wanted to fulfill that request. There was a warm coiling in his lower abdomen that he was trying very, very hard to ignore. As much as he had admired Margaret over the past few months, it barely compared to what he was feeling for Bertram.

"What do you study?" Merlin asked.

"The Classics."

\---

**1983**

After an exciting year of discreetly dating, Bertram convinced Merlin that it was time for Merlin to introduce him to his parents. When Merlin asked Bertram why they didn't meet his parents first, Bertram simply replied, "Mum and Dad would prefer me dead than homosexual," with a shrug.

With those words echoing in his mind, Merlin shifted his weight from foot to foot. Merlin would have preferred to keep his attraction to other men entirely a secret, being a bachelor for the rest of his life with his parents thinking that his solitude derived from his obsession with engineering. But meeting his parents was important to Bertram, so Merlin took Bertram home to the Scottish Highlands.

Bertram was comfortably sitting on the couch, his legs crossed in front of him and his hands folded in his lap. "Coals in your shoes?" he asked.

Merlin offered his partner a weak smile. "Not really sure how this is going to play out..."

The smile Bertram returned Merlin's with was much more confident. 'I'm sure you have lovely parents. How else could they have such a lovely son?"

Merlin awkwardly laughed. "I could say the same about your parents."

Bertram dismissed the argument with a wave of his hand. "Everything will turn out great."

Merlin didn't get a chance to respond because his mother waltzed into the room. She was still wearing her dirty gardening clothes. "My little magician!" she cried delightedly as she scooped her son into her arms and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I wish you called ahead. We would have prepared for your arrival."

Merlin couldn't help the smile on his face from being reunited with his mother. As much as he loved Bertram, nothing would ever compare with the love he felt for his mother. "It was... a spontaneous trip."

"Welcome home, son," Mr. Winchester said, stepping into the room. Unlike his wife, he was more reserved about his son's surprise visit. "I hope our British cousins are treating you well."

Merlin smiled at his father and they embraced. "Cambridge is lovely, especially this time of year. You should come visit."

"You look thin," Mrs. Winchester clucked. "Are you eating regularly?"

"Yes," Merlin replied. "After I stopped boxing regularly, I've lost some muscle weight."

Mrs. Winchester narrowed her eyes at her son. "If you say so..."

"Why did you quit?" Mr. Winchester asked.

"I haven't stopped. I just stopped doing it regularly." Before Mr. and Mrs. Winchester could ask any more questions, Merlin said, "I would like you to introduce to you my dear friend Bertram Gregory."

"Oh! How disastrously rude of us!" Mrs. Winchester exclaimed when she saw Bertram, who had been politely standing in the background since she and her husband entered the room.

"Entirely understandable," Bertram replied with a soft smile. "If my son suddenly appeared home, I would be too excited to notice anything else, as well." Bertram noticed Merlin's choice of words, introducing him as his "dear friend" instead of "boyfriend," but he knew to give Merlin time.

\---

After a cheerful and lively dinner, everyone gathered in the living room for more tea and coffee. Mr. Winchester was reading a book, Mrs. Winchester was working on needlepoint, and Bertram and Merlin were working on a crossword puzzle. Bertram gently nudged Merlin and wiggled his eyebrows, communicating that now was a good time for Merlin to reveal the true nature of their relationship.

"Mother, Father," Merlin said with a slight quiver in his voice, breaking the silence.Mr. and Mrs. Winchester paused from their respective tasks for just long enough to make a curious expression at their son. "Bertram is my boyfriend," he blurted out. "As in... I'm a homosexual."

Mr. and Mrs. Winchester looked at each other, looked back at Merlin, looked at Bertram, and then looked back at each other. Their expressions were blank. Then they turned back to their respective tasks.

Merlin was off-put by the lack of reaction from his parents. He interpreted their silence as angry condemnation, as opposed to the simple acceptance of the fact. Merlin, confused and distraught and angry at Bertram for convincing him to tell his parents, hastily excused himself from the room.

Mrs. Winchester raised an eyebrow at her Bertram. “Did we do something wrong?” she asked sadly. “Was he expecting a celebration cake?”

Bertram laughed. “He’s just nervous. He cares about your opinion of him very deeply. He just needs to be re-assured that you love him.”

“Of all the things in heaven and hell, why would he think we don’t love him?”

“Because he’s gay?”

Mr. Winchester laughed. “As if that is a reason to disown our son.”

Bertram shrugged. “Mr. and Mrs. Winchester, you are a rare exception when it comes to parents learning about their child’s homosexuality. You can’t blame Merlin if the statistics aren’t in his favor.”

“And your own parents?” Mrs. Winchester asked.

Bertram’s grinned widened just a little bit, but he didn't directly answer the question. “I have the unique ability of not giving a damn about what other people think about me. I believe it’s a reason why your son loves me.”

"And what do you love about our son?"

"That when he loves, he loves totally and deeply." Bertram turned his attention back to the crossword puzzle. "But I recommend you talk to Merlin now, before he does something drastic. We all know he can be a little bit of a drama king."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came up with a sinister/angsty idea for how Merlin was recruited to Kingsman. Not really sure if it works, but I'm just going to run with it.

**1985**

Gawain chuckled at the modified clock hanging on Merlin’s office door. Instead of numbers arranged around the clock face, Merlin had written in locations where he could be found. The long hand was currently pointed to “automotive shop.”

Gawain stood outside the warehouse and looked through the large, high-impact resistant windows for a moment, examining the young man with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his arms elbow-deep into some type of engine. Despite the grease on his forearms, Merlin’s white shirt was perfect clean. Gawain couldn’t help the smile at the sight of the tip of Merlin’s red tie being tucked into his trousers with his shirt, to keep the article from flapping all over the place.

Merlin was so immersed with his work he made no indication that he noticed the man who was watching him.

Gawain casually strolled into the warehouse and looked at the blueprints Merlin had taped down to the table. He chuckled at the sight of the meticulous, precise handwriting in all capital letters. Even if Gawain hadn’t created the dossier on the young man, Gawain knew that Merlin’s handwriting was very indicative of his personality.

As Gawain reached out to smooth out the blueprints, Merlin called out, “Please don’t touch anything!” So Merlin had noticed him, without breaking his concentration on his work. He would be a perfect replacement for the retiring Kingsman mission controller.

Merlin finished screwing in the bolt on his engine and came around to stand in front of the man. He pushed his safety goggles up onto his forehead with his the insides of his wrists and offered Gawain a polite smile. “I would shake your hand, sir, but I’m rather dirty.”

Gawain returned the young man’s smile. “What are you working on?”

“A six-speed manual transmission, sir,” Merlin replied. “When the Americans announced the Corvette and the speeds she could achieve, I knew I had to beat it.”

Gawain nodded. "I would like to present you with a unique job opportunity.”

Merlin walked over to the sink and started scrubbing off the grease that covered his forearms. “May I offer you a cup of tea? We can head back to my office and discuss this opportunity, if you would like.”

“I’m fine, thank you. And we can discuss here.”

Rather than responding, Merlin waited for Gawain to continue. Even though Merlin had significantly improved his ability to interact with others due to the help of Bertram, Merlin still didn’t say much. Combined with an infinite amount of patience, Merlin was more than content to let other's carry the conversation.

“My name is Kevin McAllister. I work for Kingsman, an independent international intelligence agency operating at the highest level of discretion. I have spent some time examining your work and believe that you would make an excellent candidate for Kingsman; I also believe that you will find working at Kingsman to be a much more fulfilling career than being an engineering professor. Are you interested?”

Merlin mulled over the possibility of being part of the unique organization. He dried his hands and took a few sips of the cold tea that he had on the table next to his blueprints. Merlin was enthralled with the idea of pushing the boundaries of what he could achieve while also helping his country.

But the idea of abandoning his family left his blood cold. Merlin shook his head, satisfied with mental decision. “I’m sorry, but I must decline.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t believe I am capable of giving up my family, or placing them in a position of risk due to association. There are things I will sacrifice in my lifetime. My family is not one of them.”

The corner of Gawain’s lips twitched into the smallest fraction of irritation; he was not expecting Merlin to decline and time was running out to find a suitable candidate. When Gawain's last candidate was beat out by Percival's candidate, Gawain was anxious to propose someone who would succeed. “I’m sorry, Merlin. But this job is not one that you casually decline.”

“I’m sorry if I have caused any offense,” Merlin replied. Merlin’s gaze wandered away from Gawain for a fraction of a moment, as he saw Bertram lingering by the window. “If you’d please excuse me, Mr. McAllister.”

“Of course. Thank you for your time, Merlin.” Gawain politely nodded at the young man.

Gawain watched as Merlin left with Bertram. The true nature of their relationship was not lost on Gawain, the way they smiled at each other and the way their elbows brushed as they walked to Merlin’s office. Gawain smirked to himself, glad that Merlin handed him part of the problem on a silver platter.

\---

Although he never said more than necessary, that didn’t mean Merlin didn’t have a vivid internal monologue. His brain was constantly formulating ideas, evaluating ideas, computing mathematics, and re-evaluating ideas. And for the first time in his life, his internal monologue was silent. Merlin felt totally numb as he looked at the blown out walls of his building and the rubble in the street. Merlin stood there on the sidewalk, dumbfounded, as emergency services did their work.

The last civil worker to leave placed a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder and gave Merlin a gentle squeeze. "We are terribly sorry for your loss." He made a weak smile, draped a shock blanket around Merlin's shoulders, and left Merlin to his non-existent thoughts.

Now alone, Merlin's knees went out from under him. He felt like his entire would had ended; how could he possibly continue to exist without Bertram? Bertram was the center of his universe, the anchor that kept him from going insane. Bertram was the caring lover, who made sure he ate and slept enough regularly. Bertram was the sophisticated socialite, who taught him to appreciate art and drama.

Merlin struggled to breath with the overwhelming hollowness in his soul. He crumpled in on himself and curled into the fetal position on the pavement. He fumbled at the straps of his backpack and pulled his stuffed Merlin into his arms. Even though the bird never made an appearance in public, Merlin still carried around with him wherever he went in his backpack.

What hurt Merlin the most was that there was no remnant of their life together, no souvenir to remind Merlin of the life he had built with Bertram. Their entire apartment and all their belongings were destroyed in the explosion. Merlin had lost all of the photographs, all of the postcards from trips they took together, all the handwritten notes they left tucked into books for the other to find. Merlin was devastated that Bertram had been bluntly erased from the world.

The police said it was gas leak that cause the apartment explosion; thankfully only a handful of individuals were injured and Bertram was the only casualty. Merlin didn’t want to believe it was something more sinister, but something in the pit of his stomach told him that it was.


End file.
